His Butler: Supportive
by Boriqua-chan
Summary: Humans are temporary creatures. She would have done well not to get attached.


**This is for one of my bestest friends ever, who—happily—just made both an FF account and a deviantART account. She's making me a three-in-one Itachi—standing, sitting, laying, ready to be raped by me—so I'm making her a Black Butler. Yoshiko is both of ours, as is Nate. You'll find out who they are later on. Her name on both is Rawr654.**

**Warning: Pluto_ is _naked_._**

* * *

Ciel frowned as Sebastian asked for the walking cane. Finnian had—yet again, sadly—broken the beautiful walking stick. The pudgy old man once again made a joke about the stick's shortness.

"Hiya!"

Ciel jumped. He turned, eye twitching, to face the bearer of the voice that'd called. A rather large ruffian stared down at him, a large, yellow-tooth smile spreading his lips thin. His red hair was ruffled messily like someone who'd just run miles from some kind of law authority. The way he looked, Ciel wouldn't have put it past him to have done so. The only thing that interrupted the bird's nest of hair atop his head was the string that held up an eye patch against his shimmering green eyes.

Ciel's frown deepened; he turned back to watching his demon butler take care of his things.

The redhead frowned. "My name's Nathaniel," he announced. His voice had a rather rough rouge to it; the voice of one raised on the streets. "Feel free to call me Nate, though." The yellow-toothed grin made a reappearance. Amazing how one could look so matured, as he did, and be so undeveloped. "What's yours?"

An exasperated sigh burst out of Ciel. "If you _must_ know, my name is Ciel Phantomhive. Now," Ciel said, "please. Remove yourself from my sight."

Nathaniel giggled. _Giggled_. He did not chuckle or laugh—he giggled. Like a girl. Or perhaps "like a young boy" would be a better simile. Whatever the analogy, he _giggled_. He knew of the Phantomhives, as all people did. "Aren't you a cranky one, Mr. Hotshot," he said in his deep voice after his unmanly giggle. Had he truly gone through all the stages of puberty, as his bodily state announced? It sure didn't seem like it. "Is that your father?" Nathaniel asked, pointing at Sebastian as he waved the cane around to check its stability.

"No," Ciel snapped. How he hated reminders. "He is my butler. Remove yourself from my sight." To hell with politeness.

Nathaniel's visible green eye widened. "_Your butler_?" he inquired, disregarding Ciel's dismissal. "A hotshot like you of course has a butler, but he seems…I don't know, _refined_? Is that the word? Or maybe is it…_graceful_? I don't know." He was rambling. Like a child. _Rambling_. "So anyway," he hummed. A pale finger stabbed over his tall shoulder. "That's my mum. Her name is Yoshiko. She's Japanese."

The pride in his voice was understandable. Should Rachel still be alive, Ciel would talk with the same pride. Yet how his mother was Japanese when he was so obviously Irish was beyond him. The obvious would be that he was adopted. But something about the way he carried himself, something about the way he just _was_, told Ciel that he wasn't adopted.

Nathaniel sidestepped. What was hidden seconds ago by the massive size of him was visible now to the five foot Ciel. A woman, tall and elegant, looking to be just under six feet, was exposed. She was leaning against the door that led to the backroom of the shop. Her hair was in a pixie shape; strands were popping out around her face randomly, somehow framing her face beautifully. Bright bloodred highlights dripped through her hair. Skin as pale as ivory stretched over strong-looking muscles. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted up—seeing all, watching nothing; hearing all, listening to nothing.

"There. I've been removed," Nathaniel declared grinningly. "Isn't me mum pretty?"

An annoyed sigh escaped Ciel. "She is," he answered, hoping desperately that Sebastian would finish his inspection of the cane soon or that the answer would at least drive the bothersome commoner away. "Now, will you please…?"

Some great being above—or possibly below—must've heard his prayer. Sebastian was suddenly behind Nathaniel, standing at _least_ five inches taller than the commoner. "Young Master," he said. "Shall we leave? Or have you made a friend?"

Ciel snorted. "As if," he muttered. He pushed past the taller, older boy that'd been infuriating him and pushed to the door.

The bell over the door jingled as they exited. Silence covered the air between Ciel and Sebastian. After the unending one-sided conversation, the peace lifted weights from Ciel's shoulders. Alas, it didn't last long. It never lasted long. The redhead was trailing after him in seconds, his mother shaking her head.

Ciel twitched. "Move, Sebastian, _move_," he ordered. The shuffling of their footsteps quickened.

Stomps. The stomps of running. _Damn_. "Ciel! Hold up, Ciel!" _Damn_. Nathaniel fell in step with the Phantomhive. Sebastian drifted behind, watching as his young master was aggravated and annoyed.

"They're scamps, aren't they," the voice of a woman said from beside Sebastian. Expectant, Sebastian turned his head to face her. Two pairs of eyes as crimson as blood met. Yoshiko's face broke into a sun-dimming smile. "_Demons_, almost," she snickered.

Sebastian's expression was unchanged. However, when he said, "I suppose," it was in an amused tone.

"Any idea where we're heading? It seems your Ciel is unhappy, Sebastian."

"We head home. You, however," he deadpanned, "will be kicked out the second we cross the threshold, I'm sure." Sebastian's red eyes stared straight ahead. It was but three more streets to the manor. His long legs took the strides slowly as to not pass Ciel.

"That will _certainly _please my poor Nate," Yoshiko snorted. Her smile had died to stone. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed it out. When her eyes opened again, the vivid scarlet color shocked all those who saw. Half those on the street stumbled over their feet. Her long lashes—black and dark, contradicting sharply with both the red of her iris and the white of her skin—brushed against her high cheekbones. "What a nice child you have, Butler-san."

They four turned the corner. Nathaniel babbled on like an excited nine-year-old; Ciel did his best to _not_ order Sebastian to rid the world of such a blabbermouth; and Sebastian good-naturedly stood Yoshiko's sarcastic small talk. The house was just one more bend. They got to it in silence. When Sebastian pulled out a key and opened the door, flowers were everywhere. _Everywhere_.

What had Finnian done _now_?

Yoshiko blinked in shock, while her "son" barely took note, grinning as he talked so fast it was hard to tell whether his lips were moving or vibrating. "Uh…" she said, red eyes wide. "By any chance, does Finnian live here? Just a question."

Sebastian almost groaned. "He's a reputation, hasn't he?" he wondered instead.

Yoshiko face-palmed. "He runs along the road when he's sent for flowers for the garden—the garden of _this_ house, I suppose—and he leaves a trail for all to follow, like Hansel and Gretel, or as if he were setting the aisle for a wedding." Her voice, while full of what some would call fondness, was exasperated. "He's a tricky one, Finnian, he is."

"Mr. Sebastian!" the familiar voice of the blonde superhuman whined sadly as he appeared from _nowhere _in front of the four.

Ciel somehow managed to glare at both the whining gardener and the blathering urchin that followed him home like a lost puppy with his one twitching eye. Sebastian did his best to wait out Finnian's excuses—which, knowing him, were nothing more than exact reasons—without hurting anyone. Yoshiko had a knowing smirk on her face, as if this amused her—which it did. Nathaniel's mouth had finally stopped; his green eye was scrunched, as if he were trying to put a name on a person's face.

Finnian's gigantic bright green eyes looked as if they were about to overflow. "Sebastian! I didn't…you see, Sebastian… There was a mat…and I tripped over it, Sebastian! I didn't _mean_ to—"

Sebastian raised an elegant hand. "Stop," he commanded, just as a crash sounded. He raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't even have to look. But then again, when did he ever? "Mey-Rin," he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel snapped his brawny fingers. "Finny!" he said in his Irish draw.

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "_No_, it _couldn't_ be," she groaned sarcastically, but with the teasing undertone of a friend. Her scarlet eyes returned to the mess that was laid before her. She blinked again, unsure whether to offer help or to leave, as the young master of the house so noticeably wanted. Finally, the Japanese demon sighed. "Sebastian, I'll take the dishes in the hall. You take the blossoms in aisles."

Sebastian opened his mouth to object but Ciel spoke first. "Whatever is done, this better be clean. I'll take my tea and desert in the office," he said. His boots crunched over the fresh flowers as he stormed up the stairs.

When Sebastian turned to suavely escort Yoshiko and Nathaniel out, Yoshiko was already gone; Nathaniel was running away, following Finnian, presumably. Sebastian pinched his nose again, deciding that, so long as they weren't bothering the young master, they could stay until he cleaned up. He was, of course, done in seconds—not even, more accurately in _a_ second.

**:: ::**

Shards of white china covered the wooden planks of the floor. The china's pieces ranged in size from _its so tiny_ to _is that plate even broken?_ Clean, pristine splinters of porcelain crunched under each soft movement of feet. The lustrous china scattered under decorations and grandfather clocks. Whole plates rested recklessly on plates, by some means being held up by thin branches or hidden atop the dirt-beds of houseplant trees.

"Oh no, oh no!" a young woman with bright purplish-red hair shouted worriedly. "Oh, the young master will be so cross! Yes he will, yes he will! I must clean this! I must!" There was a dustpan in her hand, a small, palm-sized broom in her hand. The bristles of the broom scraped against the wooden scantlings. It seemed the more she swept, the messier it got.

Yoshiko almost laughed at her clumsiness. "Should you like some help? Mey-Rin?" she wondered kindly. She was kind to those she didn't know; she couldn't say as much for those she _did_ know.

Glasses the size of Jupiter glanced up. A blush to challenge the highlights in Yoshiko's hair colored her from the end of her neck to the crown of her head. "Oh, a guests. Oh no! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Oh, I've failed as a maid—_failed_! Please, don't tell Sebastian, please!" The lights above her put a glare on the spectacles, making them so _white _it was impossible to tell the color of her eyes.

"I'm _far_ from a guest," Yoshiko snorted. "Let me give you a hand." As soon as the word hand was out of her mouth, the shards were all in the dustpan, piling higher than Mount Everest. The whole plates that made it somehow, whether by hook or by cranny, were piled atop a table nearby. "All you have to do is clean those dishes."

"I've ne-never…" Mey-Rin sputtered. Her mouth twitched for words. "I've never seen anyone clean that fast, except for Mr. Sebastian."

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "Talent. Years of practice and talent." She offered the redheaded maid a small grin. "Anyhow," she said, "my name is Yoshiko. I'm…well, I don't really know _what _I am in this household. Perhaps an uninvited guest?"

Mey-Rin looked flustered. "An uninvited guest? Oh, no, miss, you must leave; you _must_. The young master will _not_ be pleased; no he will not!"

Yoshiko rolled her eyes again. "Well, I guess we just won't tell young Ciel, now shall we? Besides, we've not come to visit _him_, but rather little Finny," she lied smoothly. She put a finger to the corner of her mouth, glancing up at the Cieling above with her scarlet, scarlet eyes. "Oh," she gasped, listing to the sound of four sets of feet on the floor squishing on the clean scantlings. "Oh, there he must be!"

Instead of a yellowish-orange head of hair running in the hallway—followed, of course, by redheaded Nathaniel as he did his best to both chase him and, knowing Nathaniel, talk him into getting the young master of the house to join them—grayish silver hair jumped up and down as it raced forward. A nude body of pale skin and sharp teeth was connected to it. A _man_. He barked as he ran and pounced, knocking Yoshiko off her feet. The red-highlighted woman giggled, scratching Pluto's head and behind his ears.

"You're a lovable little fellow!" Yoshiko giggled. Pluto's tongue dragged over her cheek. "Have you been outside too long, huh, hon?" Pluto was being overly loving; his little tongue was practically all over her face, so unlike him.

The little extravaganza was interrupted by none other than Sebastian. He groaned. "Dogs are simply a mess," he growled, red eyes shinning. His hand wrapped around Pluto's spike collar, harshly yanking him back. Sebastian landed a violent backhand to Pluto's silvery head. "_No_," Sebastian ordered strongly. Then he turned to Yoshiko. "Please, forgive him. As a Phantomhive butler, I should have him under wraps. But, as you see, we're rather busy so I'll see you to the door."

Yoshiko pouted. "Kicking me out already, after I helped clean up and everything?" she asked. Her big eyes were sardonic. "How _kind_ of you Sebastian. What a butler you are. And look at that, my Nate and your Finny are having so much fun right now."

As if on cue, Finnian raced by, feet pounding on the ground. He skidded to a stop once he saw Yoshiko. "I was wondering why Nate was here!" he said, astonished. "Hi, Yoshiko! Why are you here?" Finny's big green eyes shimmered.

The Japanese demon in question sighed. She stood up, rubbing her butt. It was sore from falling on it because of that lovely demon dog. "Isn't it obvious? Nate missed you."

Finny crossed his arms. "Why lie to me?" he asked.

Yoshiko laughed a full laugh. Her white teeth peeked out from under her full lips. "Why _would_ I lie to you?" Her finger tapped against the corner of her mouth. "Let's see… Well, for starters, there's the mess you made in the hall; the mess you made _yesterday_ on the street; how excited you get; how disappointed you get; how much you and Nate get along…"

"How does that have anything to do with _lying_ to me!?"

Yoshiko patted Finnian's orange head. "If you were older, you'd understand," she hummed. The pounding of feet on the ground echoed. "Now, Finny, run away."

"Why would I—"

"_Finnian—!_" Nathaniel crashed into Sebastian's sturdy back. The noise of it sounded like bones cracking. Nate stumbled back like a drunk. His green eye looked dazed. "Finny, come on! Ciel would _love_ to join us!"

Sebastian was massaging his temples now. "Exactly how old is he?" he wondered aloud. Was it not tortuous enough for him to have to handle three idiot servants who hardly did as they were told that he now had to deal with _this_ human and his "mother"? Honestly.

Yoshiko laughed. She took a fond step forward to ruffle Nathaniel's already chaotic hair. "Nine," she answered surely. "But he's been alive for fourteen years." Patting red strands of loose hair behind her ear, Yoshiko sighed. She smoothed out the ruffles in her short, frilly skirt and adjusted her chest-crushing corset.

"Oh, honestly," Sebastian sighed. "They'll make a mess."

"Tell them to go outside, then," Yoshiko commented, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "There's a forest out there. Here, I'll do it for you. _Nate_! _Finny_!" she shouted, voice echoing through the large house. Sebastian was almost positive that Ciel could hear it from his study. "Play outside!"

Sebastian's left eye twitched. Unwanted guests were a mess to deal with, especially if they were as utterly stubborn and oblivious as these two. "Finnian is working," he exhaled.

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "Yes, because he's doing so much for the garden as he is, right?" She crossed her arms, looking the dominatrix. Her sarcastic red glare was rather teasing.

"Yes, Mum!" both Nathaniel and Finnian shouted.

Yoshiko grinned. She was quite fit for the role her master had assigned. "That's over with," she announced, rubbing her hands together as if it were a job well done. "Now, I'm going to help you with dinner, Sebastian. With servants like Finny and Mey-Rin, you'll need all the help you can get."

Mey-Rin straightened, managing somehow to break a plate nowhere near her as she did so. "Hey!"

Yoshiko smirked. "My point proven."

Sebastian actually laughed, low and amused. Mayhap they wouldn't be _too _bad.

**:: ::**

Carrots were made mincemeat under the quick flick of Yoshiko's knife. She dropped it into the stew quickly and proceeded to murder the other one. She pushed her pixie-cut hair behind her ear, undoing the top button of her dress. The kitchen was swift to overheat. "Sebastian?" she wondered aloud. Carrots made a _plop_ping sound as they dived into the boiling water.

"Yes?" Sebastian himself was working on desert, chopping chocolate and melting it into liquid for a cake.

"Why is Ciel under your contract?" she asked.

Sebastian blinked in surprise. He poured the melted chocolate into the cake batter and stirred it. "The young master wishes to avenge his murdered parents," he answered. The batter was turning hard with each blend of the whisk. The _swish, swish, swish_ was loud to both their ears. "And your carefree child?"

Yoshiko grinned softly, like the mother she pretended to be. "Nate wants to find out where his little brother is," she said. "We haven't gotten far. Nate told me his brother's name was Sean. Odd no?" Her head turned to face him; her eyes were bright and her pupil was wide—like a single black rose resting on the red petals of blood. "Their names are too different." She stirred the stew, dropping salt into the mixture. "Nate's only ever given me two orders: To love him like his mother did and to protect him no matter what."

There was a pregnant moment of silence as they cooked.

Yoshiko moved away from her pot, letting it bubble as she sat in a kitchen chair. It rocked back and forth, creaking and squeaking. "You know, you raven demon, when the time comes, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it," she confessed.

Sebastian poured the cake batter into a small pan and stuck it in the oven. He twitched at the sound of the abused chair. "When the time comes," he answered coolly, "you will no longer be under the order to love him."

Yoshiko sighed. "I suppose so," she replied. Her elegant figure stood from the uncomfortable chair. The flame of the stove died down as she lowered the dial. "You know, Sebastian, you are rather easy to talk to."

Sebastian laughed. "You're the first to say so," he told her. "Most find me intimidating."

"You?" Yoshiko wondered. "Intimidating? Please!" She laughed; it was a sound as pleasant as the twinkling of wind chimes. Her black-and-red-roses eyes shimmered. "You're but a beautiful raven. Have you seen an angered black dove? Comparatively, you're a daisy in a field of poison ivy."

It was Sebastian's turn to roll his eyes. "Think highly of yourself, do you?" His tone was amused.

"Why, me?" she gasped. "_Never_! I am the lowest of the low." Yoshiko snorted, grabbing a wooden spoon to stir the overflowing pot and lower the flame even further. "I merely think you're tame under the command of your Ciel."

Sebastian was rather insulted. He'd killed under Ciel's orders. Yoshiko's Nathaniel probably wouldn't even _think_ of making her lay a hand on anyone. Red eyes narrowed as Sebastian retorted, "As the Phantomhive butler, I _must_ disagree."

Yoshiko stood to her full 5'6 height as she walked over to Sebastian. He was still seven inches taller than her. Even on her tiptoes, she had to stretch to ruffle Sebastian's onyx-colored mane of hair. "I know you do. I'm just teasing you," she said, watching as Sebastian's scarlet eyes narrowed. He did not like being touched. Her fingers ran softly through his hair; her black-painted nails scratched softly on his scalp. She tugged lightly, pulling at knots that did not exist. "Soft hair, Sebastian," she giggled, taking aside a thick section to braid.

"What _are_ you doing?" Sebastian asked, flabbergasted, as he tried to shake her hands out of his head. "Get your hands off me!"

Yoshiko laughed, rather loudly. With a grin, her elegant figure, clad in ironic white, flowed to the chair she sat in before. Her chair rocked, squeaking on the floor. _Creak…creak…creak…_ The sound scratched at Sebastian's sensitive eardrums. "Has no one ever touched you that familiarly?" she asked, blowing on her nails. They were red and black, combining with her hair and eyes, but contradicting sharply with her white dress. The corset had black trimmings and laces of red silk. Other than that, her dress matched exactly with her ivory skin. She looked the part of a Demon of Death.

Sebastian twitched slightly, remembering Madam Red's familiarity with his bottom. He remained silent. There was a crash from out the window, which faced the garden; the sound of Finny's voice was loud as he shouted, "The flowers are alright!"

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "_Splendid_," she snorted ironically.

Sebastian chuckled at her. His red eyes watched as Finny surprisingly caught the flower bin. He knelt down to plant them, only to have Mey-Rin trip over him with the shears that she was going to give him. They speared themselves into the ground, pointed side in, saving Mey-Rin from a fatal injury as she landed, her glasses inches away from the clippers. Baldroy shouted something, flamethrower in hand. Sebastian pinched his nose, waiting for the flames to burn up all the plants. He unlatched the window, ready to reprimand.

"Ah-ah-ah," Yoshiko sang. Her own eyes were watching the same scene from a different window. "Wait for it, Sebastian," she ordered. Like a good butler, he did.

Baldroy latched the flamethrower back onto his back. He shouted something and Mey-Rin stood to attention, giving him a military salute. She answered something; her lips mouthed the words, "Sir, yes, sir!" and she yanked the shears out of the ground. It seemed everything was under control again.

Sebastian stood shocked. He latched the window and just watched. Then he noticed something—Yoshiko's Nathaniel was missing from the band of misfits. "Where is—?" he started, but the impatient Japanese demon interrupted him.

She giggled; ears perked to the sound of the upstairs. "Well look at that; they're getting along," she grinned.

As if on cue, Ciel's voice shouted, "_Get out!_" as he had to Prince Soma. But Nate's voice went on and over that of Ciel. He was bragging about his vanished family, Yoshiko, and everything else he could think about; and when he ran out of that, he started complementing the organization of his office.

Sebastian chucked again, honest amusement coloring his tone. "Indeed they are, Ms…?"

The _creak, creak, creak_ of the chair she sat on fell into tune with the sound of her voice. "To hell with formalities, Sebastian," she muttered. "After all, how long have we known each other?"

Sebastian smirked. His crimson eyes turned to mischief, something so unlike him. "So you remember?" he asked, a laugh threading in and out of his words. He leaned against the oven as it _tick-tick-ticked_ away the seconds.

Yoshiko rocked the chair. Her head rested on the palms of her hands; her eyes stared up at the white of the Cieling. "_No_, of _course_ I forgot," she snarled, mentally tracing the twists and turns of their relationship. A soft smile crossed her plump lips. "You were a very…_enthusiastic_ teacher in the way of humans. You remember? Not that I could blame you—or that I'm complaining. I find human bodies to be very…_interesting_. The way they conceive sexual pleasure… Why, it's utterly appealing, don't you think?"

Sebastian laughed. "You were a quick learner," he recalled, twitching in tune to the rock of her chair. Yoshiko sighed whimsically at the memories. Everything was silent save for the squeaking of chair's to and fro movement. Sebastian's hand slammed down on the wooden countertops suddenly. "Will you _stop_ rocking that chair!" he begged. Instead, the chair got louder, more insistent. Sebastian sighed, somehow ending up at her chair, using both his hands to weigh down the chair. Scarlet eyes locked. Memories of shirtless nights and "biology" lessons rushed back; Yoshiko started to pant lightly. They were _inches_ away from each other. "Thank you," Sebastian smirked.

Yoshiko smirked. She knew the creaking drove him past insanity. She grabbed his thin black tie, pulling him closer than he already was—if such a thing were possible. She yanked him down, making sure his lips slanted _just right_ over hers. The tip of her tongue traced over the cool silk of his lips as she tasted the bittersweet taste of his skin. He opened his mouth, ready to wrestle her as they did way back when. Just as his tongue escaped his mouth, hungering for the saltiness of hers, Yoshiko dragged her mouth from his; the perpetual mischievous glint rested in her scarlet, scarlet eyes.

The black-haired beauty smirked as Sebastian caught the breath he hadn't known he'd lost. How long had he longed to do that—despise the fact as he might? Far more than he should have. Sebastian hadn't seen the demon in over three humans' lifetime.

"You're exceedingly welcome," Yoshiko muttered, keeping her own breathlessness from touching her tone. Her glaze drifted from his face to his suit-clothed body; she frowned, sighing. Then she glared at the cake in the oven. "That poor boy. Have you given him nothing but chocolate as desert?"

Sebastian just glared at her, finding the strength in his overly forceful body to move away. His tie had slipped from the inside of his waistcoat because of Yoshiko's sudden kiss. He frowned, but somehow—in spite of his character-defining OCD—managed to just scowl and leave it as was.

Yoshiko stood; her voluptuous form moving as she walked. "Have you thought once of caramel or…or bananas, sweet bananas?" she wondered.

Sebastian scowled. "Bananas," he said, "are desert only when coated in ice cream."

The Japanese demon grinned. "A lesson from the young master, I presume?" She giggled when she didn't get an answer. She was standing on her tiptoes; she raided the cabinets for food. "Do you have a fryer, Sebastian?" But before the words were out of her mouth, she was standing on a chair to reach the highest shelf, pulling out an underused fryer that needed corn oil to work. "Chop me up some bananas, won't you?"

Sebastian frowned, but nonetheless set to work as the youngest demon—she was but a thousand years old, and, compared to his million, she was but a toddler—in the underworld set the oil to a boil.

Soon, they'd fried three bananas for Ciel, seven for Mey-Rin, Finny, and Baldroy, and another one for the childish Nate. The silence as Sebastian took out the baked cake was comfortable—

That is, until the smell of fire hovered to their noses. A tree in the distance of the garden was ablaze and, near it, panicking Finny and Nate jumped around.

Sebastian sighed at the sight. He'd have to get Ciel's lunch to him and put out the tree before the manor burned to the ground as the last one did.

"Put out the tree," Yoshiko said, her musical voice pulling him from his thoughts, "I'll get Ciel's luncheon to him." Sebastian eyed her suspiciously, but her voice once again watered the flames of his doubt. She smiled, her full brown lips twitching up to expose perfectly chiseled teeth coupled with two small, barely visible fangs. "Don't you worry your pretty little head off. He won't be able to resist the bananas." With that, she picked one of the lava-hot bananas and waved it in front of his perfect pale nose, waiting until his mouth opened. It parted slightly; it was all the invitation Yoshiko needed to nudge the banana into his mouth.

Eating was a luxury, not a necessity, for demons. Delicious food just added to the opulence—and damn, Sebastian thought, was this a treat. The corner of his lips kicked up. Then he left, walking to the flaming tree.

Yoshiko sighed; her lips still tingled. It had been over a hundred years since she'd seen him. Last time, they'd both been servants to Egyptian pharaoh. She to Upper Egypt's pharaoh and he to Lower Egypt's pharaoh. They'd seen each other only when they'd make treaties before they'd made Egypt a whole. Both pharaohs had dirty little secrets and conspiring murders. If you'd been the king of a whole nation, wouldn't you have a knife to your neck every three seconds? What better way to be protected by that than to have a demonic bodyguard?

It'd been a wonderful human lifetime, watching Sebastian expose his sculpted chest to fit in.

Sebastian was already at the tree, which meant she'd have to hurry. Of course, the idea of her hurrying wasn't much of a stretch; she loaded the meal and two deserts onto the tray and walked upstairs to where the delicious drag of Ciel's soul came from.

Her fist was light on the door. She peaked through before he'd even answered. "Ciel? Lunch is ready."

Ciel looked up from his desk. His singular blue eye pierced right into the depths of her past. It made Yoshiko blush to think that this little boy, hardly thirteen, had the power to know everything she'd ever thought…everything she'd ever seen…everything she'd ever longed for. But the idea was impossible. "Where is Sebastian?" he wondered, voice emotionless, tone more an order than inquiry.

Yoshiko walked in, placing the tray in front of him. "Taking care of Finny's mistake," she answered lowly as she set everything up. Ciel tsked. "For lunch, you'll be having carrot stew with a side of white rice." The rice shocked Ciel; it wasn't one of the things Sebastian made regularly. "And desert"—Yoshiko smiled—"fried bananas, nice and sweet." As an afterthought, she added, "And chocolate cake, if you want to go for the boring."

Ciel's eyebrow rose. He eyed the yellow, oily banana slices warily. "What is this?"

Yoshiko smiled. "Try it," she dared.

Cagily, Ciel stabbed the fried fruit with his fork, and then placed it into his mouth. "Huh," he said softly. "Delicious."

The Japanese woman's smile widened. "Thank you," she said. "Enjoy your meal," she added as she walked away. Her fingers caressed the soft wooden door. Yoshiko paused for a second, then turned to face the young master of the manor again. "Ciel?" she called softly. The boy's eye turned to face her. "Do you mind your servants having friends over?"

There was a long hiatus before the Earl Phantomhive answered. "No," he replied guardedly. "Why do you ask?"

Yoshiko smiled. "I thought Finny might be lonely," she hummed. Her beautiful pale fingers fiddled with the silky wood of the heavy door. "Mayhap, I thought, Finny would like company overnight. What teenage boy dislikes sleepovers?"

Ciel's lips opened to answer a frosty "me," but Yoshiko's dazzling smile disarmed him. He stared at the elegant, graceful woman and thought of his mother. It was a silly comparison for Yoshiko had neither blue eyes nor honey-blonde hair. She looked nothing like Rachel and Ciel had the idea that the Japanese woman was fairly sarcastic rather than mild-mannered and docile like his Rachel—but nonetheless, the picture of his beautiful mother came to mind. In his mind's-eye, he saw his mother smiling at him her soft smile, eyes glittering; and he saw the features shift and change and darken until Rachel's high cheekbones sharpened and her blue eyes turned red, her thin lips thickened and her peach-caramel skin turned alabaster.

So instead Ciel just shook his head and watched as the woman closed the door behind her.

**:: ::**

It had been a few weeks and the two visitors with no surname had no doubt overstayed their welcome. Still they'd received no feeling other than welcome, indifference, or glee. Nate was starting to wear on Ciel; just last night, the young Earl had invited the large teen to play cards. Nate knew go-fish, but of course, Ciel being Ciel, wanted to play something different. His game was blackjack. So Ciel had spent the rest of night till the wee hours of the morning teaching the Irish teen with the huge pimple on his chin and the shaggy red hair to play.

Yoshiko helped Sebastian around the house, stealing kisses decades overdue and dragging half-unwilling smiles from him. Diverse as the dishes in the manor were, they managed to get even more varied.

Now, Sebastian stood at attention as an investor of the Funtom Company sat across from the young master on the study table. Like a loyal dog, Sebastian stood quite and at attention, neutral red eyes observing for all and any danger.

"And you see, I would like to learn more—"

Ciel moved his piece. "Your turn," he said in his English monotone.

The Irishman's brown eyes blinked confusedly before he glanced down at the game board. "Oh, yes," he hummed softly, rolling the die and moving forward however many spaces it told him to. He'd missed the "_you've lost a leg_"spot narrowly. "It seems I'm lucky," the investor grinned slightly, referring to the missing-leg spot. His lips twitched up at the right corner; it lit his eyes up childishly. "As I was saying," he continued. "I would like to learn more about the Funtom Company. You see, my son is a huge fan of all things Funtom—toys, candy, and curry included. By the way, you make scrumptious curry." His Irish brogue was endearingly thick. "He's been urging me endlessly to become a part of it."

Ciel sighed. "As an investor you will make no decisions in what we do or do not do," the Queen's Watchdog informed. It was a mistake many investors made. "You simply gain and lose with us. A silent observer in the twists and turns of the company." Ciel smirked. "Much like my butler, here." He moved his piece and drew a card. "Well look at that—I've lost a turn."

The Irishman took the die. "It appears so, young Earl Phantomhive," he grinned. "And I know, I've realized. But I've also seen how the stores that sell your items is overcrowded and, by the time I've gotten there, sold out. Most of my Sean's friends are completely obsessed with it." The Irishman smiled up at the company's owner charmingly. "I'd say your company is going no where but up."

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. _Sean?_ That was the name of Nathaniel's brother; the reason Yoshiko had returned to him in the first place.

"Indeed," Ciel muttered, cerulean eyes on the board. "My turn." Ciel grabbed the die and grinned. "It appears as if I win, Mr. Fitzpatrick." The small_ tink-tink_ of the moving boot on cardboard seemed to echo in the room. He left the board as it was and turned his full attention to the interested investor. "Now, you say your son's name is Sean?"

Sebastian smiled slightly at the turn of the conversation. Leave it to the young master.

Mr. Fitzpatrick smiled enchantingly at Ciel. What a young boy to be running a corporation. "Why? Do you seek a playmate?" The man's ebony hair fell in front of his hazel-colored eyes as he laughed; Ciel remained straight-faced as his mirth died. "Yes, his name is Sean. Sweet boy, but he's been through so much."

Both Ciel and Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Such as?" Ciel prompted. It was obvious the man was proud of his son, though the topic visibly made Mr. Fitzpatrick uncomfortable.

The investor rushed back the strands of hair that had escaped their slicked confines. "Well, his biological parents; they died in a crash." Mr. Fitzpatrick sighed sadly, shaking his slicked head. "My poor boy still wakes with nightmares." Ciel twitched, remembering his own nightmares—flames licking at the blue, blue sky, relentlessly smoldering everything in its merciless way. "He lost his brother there too, though he insists that he's still living."

Ciel interrupted the man's story. "What does Sean say his brother was named again?" he wondered.

Mr. Fitzpatrick's eyes widened, as if remembering he was still in someone's home. He raked his nails over his well-oiled hair and sighed. "I never said," Mr. Fitzpatrick answered absently. There was a light frown on his face. "Sean says his brother's name was…Nathaniel, I think."

Sebastian's eyes widened. A smile came over his face and he felt himself soften inside. If he couldn't feed, Yoshiko might as well.

"I know a Nathaniel," Ciel stated idly, like a comment meant to be taken lightly. "Where do you live?"

"May I ask why you need to know?" Mr. Fitzpatrick wondered, eyeing the young man and his servant icily.

Ciel smirked at the man's cautious. "We may need to exchange letters, of course. To inform you how the company is doing. You wish to invest how much, exactly?"

Mr. Fitzpatrick dug into the lapels of his jacket. He fished out a checkbook. "How much would you say is _too much_?" he wondered laughingly.

"None is ever too much, Mr. Fitzpatrick," Ciel assured. His blue eyes shinned with a faked kindness.

The investor scribbled down a number and slid over the checkbook to the Funtom Company owner. "How is that?" The answer was the impressed angle of Ciel's brow. "I take it as good?" Mr. Fitzpatrick laughed. "My address is on that check as well, young Earl Phantomhive. Visit, write—please. You are welcome," Mr. Fitzpatrick said, "a thousand times over, wherever you come from, whosoever you be." He smiled at his welcome and stood from his chair. "Now, I must be going. Pleasure meeting you, Earl Phantomhive. And you, Sebastian."

**:: ::**

"_For the love of Buddha, Nathaniel_!" Yoshiko's voice boomed throughout the colossal estate, echoing wherever there was something to echo off. "What did you _do_? I am going to _kill _you!" Yoshiko's shoulder-length hair jumped up and down and swung around like a curtain as she hoped with anger. "Look at this! _Look at this_, Finn! _Look at this, Nathaniel_!" She waved a hand at the burnt trees behind her. Her white skirt swished around her thighs while she stomped around the garden. "Do you _know_ how much trouble you two are in right now? _No_, you _don't_, because the amount is so monumental—so colossal—so massive—so monumental that no one has _survived _that kind of trouble to tell the tale! Because their mother _killed _them!"

Nathaniel pursed his lips and held up one finger. "Mum," he said, raising his finger higher and hiding his head beneath it, "you said 'monumental' twice."

Yoshiko's scarlet eyes twitched. She held up her fisted hands and cracked her fingers one by one, slowly, making sure each loud _pop_ resounded through the air. "_No_," she droned sarcastically, "I hadn't _noticed_." She glared down at her son.

"And," Finnian said sheepishly, "you aren't my mother. Technically. So you can't actually punish me."

"_Shut it_!" Yoshiko yelled. She stormed closer to the gardener and tilted the boy's head up. "_I_ may not be able to punish you, but my Sebastian sure can. And if I show him _this_"—she waved a hand angrily at the trees behind her; rather _ashes_, instead of trees—"he will no doubt at _least_ ground you…or…or…or _something_, but _trust me_, you will be _punished_!"

Nathaniel pursed his lips. His green eyes widened innocently. "We'll be punished?" he asked, much like a confused five-year-old.

"_No_!" Yoshiko shouted. "You'll be allowed to go free, after you _burned down _Ciel's garden!" Her hands swung around as she talked, signaling and pointing, resisting the urge to slap both teens on the back of the head. "Of course you'll be punished!"

Finny's blue eyes stared up at the taller woman. "I've burnt down the garden before," he said. "And Sebastian fixed it without punishing me."

Yoshiko twitched. The sight was rather comical. Her whole body trembled and her eyes twitched while her red lips squeezed together; her white dress swayed around her and the black trimmings looked like onyx knives. She looked like an erupting volcano. "Is that so?" she snarled; her scarlet eyes convulsed with anger. "I don't care! He will this time!"

Nate suddenly burst out laughing.

"_What is it_? _What's so funny_? _I want to laugh too_!" Yoshiko growled, twitching even more. Her movements were awkward and rugged with anger.

"You've got him whipped, Mum," Nate snickered.

The statement brought a blush to the woman's cheeks; the flames of her anger had been watered. Her face was as red as her eyes and the highlights in her hair. She jabbed a finger behind her at the smoldering ashes. Halfheartedly and a bit embarrassed, she said, "Fix it!" Then she stormed away.

Finny stared at her, confused. "Did you understand anything of what just happened?"

Nate lifted a finger like the most respected philosopher in all of England. "There are only three kinds of Irishmen who can't understand women—young men, old men, and men of middle age," he said sophisticatedly.

Finny laughed. Then he headed out for some seedlings to replant the trees.

**:: ::**

Night had fallen quicker than usual. Yoshiko sat in Sebastian's room, rocking the tiny chair he had in front of the tiny desk he had back and forth, to and fro… Excluding that, the silence was comfortable, even if Sebastian was twitching…and twitching…and twitching…

"Will you stop that?" he hissed from between his teeth.

Yoshiko kicked the chair back; it made an extra loud _creek _just for Sebastian. "Nope," she said, popping the _P_. "Sounds relaxing." She made the chair screech again.

Sebastian glared at her. "Relaxing?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. He leaned over her; his onyx bangs fell forward to meet Yoshiko's alabaster skin. "Annoying," he corrected, pressing his hands onto the sides of the chair to slam it onto the ground. He was stronger than Yoshiko and he knew it. "Keep at it and I won't tell you what the young master found about Sean."

Yoshiko stopped trying to rock the chair. She stared, wide-eyed, up at him, chewing on her bottom red lip. Watching, waiting. Her scarlet eyes searched Sebastian's. "What do you know that I don't?"

Sebastian smirked. "Lots of things. But about this? Sean was adopted."

Yoshiko's eyes widened. Her thin, elegant hands grasped Sebastian's wrists. They were covered in old scars, in the shape of whiplashes. She ignored them for the moment, having kissed them repeatedly just nights ago. "Sean…my Nate's Sean…was _adopted_?" she asked him. Tears were welling in her scarlet eyes, providing them with a mirror-like sheen. "By who? When?" She swallowed thickly. "Oh, Sebastian, I'm so hungry…so _very_, _very _hungry."

The look in Sebastian's eyes softened. He lifted one of his hands, wrists incased by his lover's smaller ones, and brushed away one of the runaway red strands that had fallen to her face. "I know," Sebastian murmured. He could practically hear his own stomach growling at the idea of Ciel's succulent, immense soul. His soft, cold lips pressed to Yoshiko's pale forehead. "I know." His lips whispered against the softness of his black dove's temple.

The saltiness of her tears had met at the point of her chin. She whimpered gently. "I should want his soul," she muttered, staring at the object right ahead of her; that object just so happened to be the white shirt under his black tailcoat. "I _should_ want it. But that's the thing," she confessed. "I _don't_. I want nothing to do with his soul other than nurture it and love it. And, _god_, I am so hungry—_so_, _so hungry_."

Yoshiko's grip on Sebastian's wrist tightened with each word she said; finally, fearing she would break the powerful bones under his beautifully pale skin. His skin was whiter than hers. She looked up at him, eyes full of vulnerability and helplessness—something she'd never let anyone see, _ever_. She was Yoshiko—the youngest demon in the underworld; if she showed any weakness to anyone there, she'd be branded as feeble and pathetic. She worked hard to get to where she was as one of the strongest demons, though she'd only been in the job for a thousand years. If this weren't Sebastian she was showing weakness to, she'd be beating herself up a thousand times over.

She looked him straight in the eye. "I don't want his soul," she murmured.

Sebastian stared down at her sympathetically. "You are under the order to love him, Yoshiko," he reminded her. "That is why you feel like this. But look at yourself; you crave it. You desire his soul; you _need_ it. I can see it in your eyes—behind the sadness, behind the motherly protection. You are _starved_ for it, just like I am starved for his." His long finger caressed her neck as he danced up it to tilt her chin up. "Believe me."

Yoshiko shivered at the feel of his callused fingertips. She bit the inside of her lips and instead of snapping something at him, held her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she watched him with mirror-like eyes. "So," she said in a gust of breath, "are you going to keep me hanging or are you going to be perverted?"

"Giving me a choice, are you?" Sebastian asked with a smirk. His hands ran from her shoulders and forehead all the way down to her waist, feeling each and every curve with a perverted lavish. Yoshiko rewarded him with a stern glare. "All right," he said laughingly. "Ciel's done you the favor of inviting Mr. Fitzpatrick and his family—including his son—to dinner tomorrow."

Yoshiko's scarlet eyes widened. She jumped up. "_No_!" she shouted insistently. Realizing how Sebastian had backed away with eyes wider than her own, she licked her lips and settled back down into the chair. Sebastian leaned in once again, his cool breath washing over her entire frame. "Nate doesn't want that. Nate just wants to see him, to know he's okay. I've told him time and time again that it doesn't make sense, to see him and then…" Yoshiko paused; the motherly order to love him didn't let her finish the sentence. "But he won't listen," she continued. "He says he just wants to see him, then he can…then I can…" She tried forcing the words out of her mouth, but failed.

"Ah, I see…" Sebastian whispered. His voice was a soft caress on a shore of sharp-edged rocks. "He just wants to see if he's okay. And if he isn't, then…"

Yoshiko nodded. "Then he wants me to find a way to make him happy. Then I can…" She shook her head free of the thoughts. "Anyway… I should tell Ciel that Sean cannot lay eyes on Nate. What time are the Fitzpatricks coming?"

"Dinnertime, Yoshiko," Sebastian answered as if it were obvious. He stared at her as if she'd grown a third eye.

Yoshiko swallowed, running a peach hand through her red-and-black hair. "I am the _smartest_ person ever," she muttered to herself. "Thanks. Tomorrow, right? Right. Can I pose as a maid for the evening?"

Sebastian offered his sweetest smile. "Must you really ask?"

"Well, _duh_," she said sarcastically. "Talk about blonde moments."

Sebastian's smile widened. "I don't think Lady Elizabeth would appreciate that comment," he teased.

Yoshiko's black brows knitted together. Her burgundy eyes shined with surprise. "Little Ciel's fiancée is blonde? I always figured him for a brunette kind of guy," she confessed. She smiled up at him.

Sebastian shook his head at her. "He's thirteen," he reminded her.

The black dove demon rolled her ruby eyes. "Yes, because he _doesn't _have hormones. You've never dressed him when he has morning wood."

Sebastian cringed. "I've done my best not to," he responded, wincing. His expression dragged a giggle from Yoshiko. She stood up; her body rubbed up close to Sebastian's, as he had done nothing to move. It caused the Japanese demon to laugh again.

"I see someone has nighttime wood," she giggled. Her fingers laced through Sebastian's. "Let's see what I can do to chop it down."

**:: ::**

Nathaniel stared down at his surrogate mother. The woman was more than two inches shorter than he, and yet at this moment she seemed like the tallest, scariest, most intimidating person in the world. His throat ran as dry as a well in the middle of a desert. He licked his peeling lips and pressed them together, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat even though he had no saliva left. "Sean is…" he croaked. "Sean was _adopted_ after the crash? Sean has a _family_? And he's…he's coming _here_? _Today_?"

Yoshiko pressed her own lips together, a humanly habit she'd picked up from Nathaniel. "Yes," she assured. Her tone was strong and sure, so unlike the one she'd used last night when confessing to Sebastian. "I'll be posing as a maid of the house; you as Sebastian and my son." She stood on her tiptoes and pulled his chin down. There was a contact in her fingers. She plopped one into his eye and pulled away his raggedy eye patch. The skin-colored bandage exposed a vermilion eye; a red thirteen-pointed star known only to the black dove shinned from inside it. "Promise me you'll keep yourself hidden," she begged. "The contract is still in place and I don't want to cause your brother pain if he sees you, okay? Promise me."

Yoshiko's cerise eyes pierced holes into Nathaniel's green orbs. Tears rolling down her eyes, she grabbed the Irish boy and hugged him to her chest. Her arms flexed with the effort she embraced him. His arms wound around her shoulder. Then she pulled away, scrubbing away the saltwater tears before he could see them.

"Your name is Sylvester Michaelis and you've been a servant all your life. That's all you need to know," Yoshiko informed him. "You're just going to observe the way he's treated. If he's treated badly, we will help him, somehow we will. But if he's treated as a boy of nine should be, we'll leave him be. Understood?"

Nathaniel ran his tongue over his teeth and chewed on it. "Yeah, I understand, Mum," he muttered; his eyes showed the sadness and glee he was feeling, a melting pot of melancholy and jovial emotions.

Yoshiko ran a pale thumb under his eyes; his short brown eyelashes tickled the pad of her fingertip. "It's not too late to call this off," she said, reminding him of the offer she'd proposed a million times before. "We could leave. Forget about all of this. I could stand to be hungry for another few decades. It's nothing. You don't need to do this."

Nathaniel shook his head. "No," he said sternly. "I made a deal—a _contract_, no less—and I'm keeping my word. I want to see my brother one last time." A cheerful smile crossed his face as if he weren't going to die soon. It pulled on Yoshiko's heartstrings like the cords of her corset pulled her waist together. "And then I'll feed you, alright, Mum? You haven't eaten in _years_. I mean, look at yourself!" He put his hands on Yoshiko's thin waist. "You're skin and bones!"

Yoshiko spared him a limp smile. "Get dressed. I'll call you when they get here," she told him, her voice narrowly escaping the crack around the corner. With that, she rushed off into the manor.

**:: ::**

Knee-high boots the color of mud covered dull blue stockings. A dark navy dress fell around blue socks like cascades of ultramarine water, covered in the white foam of an apron as it splashed over the four shiny black buttons that protruded out from the river of her outfit like rocks. Yoshiko was in the exact same uniform as Mey-Rin, minus the bonnet. She was ready for the role of Phantomhive maid; she just wasn't ready for the consequences.

Sebastian appraised her from his seat atop his bed. With the help of Yoshiko and the added bonus of half the household being terrified to death of her, he'd finished setting the tables and cleaning the manor with hours to spare. He watched her tighten the laces on her boots. "You look like a competent maid," he said with a grin.

Yoshiko smiled lightly. "Liar," she murmured. "You just like to see me get dressed."

Sebastian rose from his bed, black uniformed butler slacks. His hands rested themselves on her waist, his lips nuzzled into her neck. Tongue brushing across the juncture before saying, "I love more undressing you."

Tilting her neck back, Yoshiko laughed. "You pervert," she giggled, knotting her hands into his hair. Her nails scratched the skin of his skull lightly. Sebastian nipped at her skin, sucking and licking, tasting the sweet sourness of her skin, not stopping until he elicited from her pretty red lips a moan. "I need to be dressed," she reminded him; the soft whisper was hesitant. Sebastian's lips unlatched from the juncture of Yoshiko's neck. Immediately, she regretted telling him. Her fingers drifted above wet skin. Sebastian's saliva glistened lightly. "Damn, Sebastian…you left a hickey."

Sebastian eyed the bright pink bruise on Yoshiko's shoulder. A smile crossed his face, lifting both sides of his mouth. He turned to open the door for you. "And you'll wear it proudly, _Mrs_. Michaelis," he said smugly. Marriage meant next to nothing to demons, but a chance to embarrass Yoshiko as only he could was irresistible. He eyed the bright red mark, satisfied.

A bonnet flew Yoshiko's way. She caught it deftly, though surprise colored her face. "I am _not_ wearing this," Yoshiko scoffed.

"Oh, but you must," Sebastian said. The polite butler mask was put in place. His head was tilted a few degrees and his eyes were closed, that fake soft smile on his face. "Your hair," he said, pointing at the bright scarlet streaks that bled through her raven black hair. "It clashes with your outfit. As the butler of the Phantomhive family, I simply cannot have a maid of the household in such a distracting state."

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "If it makes you happy," she said, shaking her head. She looked at the white bonnet distastefully. If there was anything she hated, it was hiding her hair. She'd chosen to appear like this in human form with natural red streaks because she liked the way it looked and the way it made her look. It was her one most prized bodily position, she felt vain to say. And here came this bonnet. Yoshiko scowled, looking as if she'd just met her maker, and pulled it on, tying it tight around her head. It hid most the stripes, only visible in her bloodred bangs and the very tips of her short hair, most of which was hidden underneath the vile bonnet.

"There," Sebastian said. He walked out his bedroom, expecting Yoshiko to follow. "You are now a proper maid of the Phantomhive household. Serve with pride."

Yoshiko frowned, remembering earlier lessons on how to be a proper servant. "Aren't I supposed to look modest, not proud?"

"I hadn't meant that literally."

The woman scoffed. "You don't say?" she wondered sarcastically. She pushed back a strand of black hair that had escaped her bonnet. "Come on, you cryptic bastard, we've got dinner to cook. Or a chef to help."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Yoshiko's sarcasm must have been contagious because he said, "Yes, because Baldroy makes wonderful _poulet par lance-flammes_."

Yoshiko's dark brows knotted together. "I chose a Japanese name and ancestry so I wouldn't have to learn that godforsaken _French_. Japanese is more fun than that language," she complained. "So, if you please, _translate_."

Sebastian chuckled. "Chicken by flamethrower," he said.

Yoshiko's mouth spread into a wide O. Then she said, "Hey, you never know." She turned the corner. "He hasn't burned anything down this week; maybe that flamethrower has some kind of special gunpowder that gives the chicken that…peculiar burnt flavor. I myself would like very much to try his _poulet par lance-flammes_." As soon as she finished that sentence, the manor resounded with the tremor of a bomb.

Sebastian took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his black gloved fingers. "You may have spoken too soon," he sighed, walking calmly towards the kitchen. "This is going to take quite a while to fix."

Yoshiko rolled her eyes. "Snap your fingers, Sebastian-_senpai_, and make it all better," she teased. She'd adopted Japanese honorifics as part of training; part of the training Sebastian had taught her. In order to fit in to the human antics of the world, she'd had to choose a nationality and an appearance. Becoming one with the traditions of that nation had taken a hefty part of her training. Honorifics came with the territory; if she once forgot to call Sebastian as her superior or teacher, she was punished.

"You take the role of a mother, am I correct?" Sebastian said, all manners and housework once more. Yoshiko was sure the honorific had heated old memories, and she smiled regardless of the expression her ex-teacher wore. Sebastian didn't wait for an answer. "Your role as Nathaniel's…employee is to treat him as you would if you were his mother, earning you therefore the role of mother. So tell me this, _oka-san_, would you let Nathaniel go unpunished for doing something he has been repeatedly told not to?"

"Of course not," Yoshiko answered, walking towards the nearest wall and leaning against it. She waved around her cuffed hand. "I know Baldroy is being a bit stubborn about his flamethrower, but do you really want to spend hours—_days_—waiting for them to fix it when today your—_our_—young masters have important things to do?" She pushed herself off the wall as she would rock her chairs. "Tell them to call it a day and catch a few sunrays before I chomp down on them." She swiveled around on her heel to face Sebastian as he walked behind her. One of her scarlet eyes closed in a wink. "I learned my torture tactics from the best, after all."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Sebastian sighed.

Yoshiko pouted. "Really?" she asked. "Isn't that a lesson the world needs to follow. Now come on, there's a kitchen that needs cleaning."

"I take it you're now looking forward to your meal?" Sebastian wondered as they walked to the kitchen.

Yoshiko almost froze in place. "I… No," she answered. "But the faster it comes, the faster it goes. I think I remember someone saying that to me when I was leaving Japan."

Sebastian nodded. He turned the corner to the kitchen.

It was a mess. The entire room was charred. It stank of smoke, ash, and flames. You could see the remains of the ashes floating in the air where the sun shone in through the window.

Baldroy looked like he was about to slip away; it had taken Sebastian too long to get there and he had been hoping that if god had any mercy, he would be gone before the butler and his girlfriend showed up. The thought of _Sebastian _having a _girlfriend_ made him snort. The words _Sebastian_ and _girlfriend_ didn't mix as well as the words _Yoshiko_ and _sarcastic_ did. "Ehehehe," Bard said, chuckling like a child caught doing something he shouldn't. Which, in a way, he was. "I was jus' 'bout ta clean this up, is all," he lied.

Sebastian almost snorted. Yoshiko did it for him. "Yeah, when Hell freezes over," she said sarcastically. "Right after you made a half-decent meal and gave Sebby-kun here a big ole wet one, am I right?" This time, Sebastian had to physically restrain himself from making a face, both at the name _Sebby-kun_ and the idea of Baldo kissing him. Yoshiko gave out another sardonic laugh. She strolled over to a charred chair; it used to be covered in velvet and edged in gold. Now it was nothing more than ash in the shape of a seat. Her bright red eyes gave the room another look as she leaned the chair back, lifting up a cloud of smoke as she did so. "Now how do you think we should punish him, Sebastian?" she asked idly. She breathed in the smoke, relishing the warm reminder of _home_. Her gaze shifted over to the apprehensive blonde man. "We can't possibly make him clean this; there isn't time."

Sebastian rose a brow, wondering what his student had in mind.

Then the demon woman snapped her fingers. "I know!" she said, and the way she said it made Bard think she had already planned out his _punishment_. He hoped desperately it wouldn't involve whips, chains, or anything of that family, as Yoshiko shared Sebastian's sadistic side; he had a sick feeling the woman could manage to make it hurt like hell while leaving only minimal marks. It was the only explanation for the lack of scars on Sebastian's body, really; it wasn't a big secret that Nate's mother was a rather kinky woman. "We'll make him listen to Nathaniel sing!"

Sebastian's lips curled into a smile. Baldo scowled, unimpressed with the size of this punishment. "That's _it_? Just listen to a kid sing? I thought you were more imaginative than that, Lady Yoshiko."

The woman's bright red lips turned up into a rather cruel smile as her burned chair came down onto the ground with a decided slam. "Just you wait, dear," she said, then proceeded to rushing the cook out of his own kitchen with the order to gather Finn, Nate, and Mey-Rin.

**:: ::**

The kitchen was clean and new by the time the chef came back with the three. Yoshiko was sitting in her chair, which was no longer charred and instead was rocking back and forth with an ominous creak. The woman was currently having a glaring match with the head butler, who had no doubt just told her to _stop rocking that godforsaken chair this instant_. It was weird to see her like that, seeming so _young_ in contrast to the way Nathaniel always saw her, as his mother. It was sobering, in a way, to see this demon woman with one of her own kind; a reminder that she was indeed not human, and that she was very, _very_ starved. Nate sighed lightly, catching the attention of his so-called parents.

"Yes, Mum?" he asked, as if they had been having an ongoing conversation.

Yoshiko smiled and patted her leg, though the boy was much too old to be sitting on her lap. Nate rolled his eyes, though, and stood next to the chair. "Would you do your dear mother a favor, boy? Sing to me, one last time." Her piercing red glare told Baldroy to stay where he was.

Nate nodded, smiling widely. He opened his mouth and the shrillest, loudest, ear-shattering sound came out of it. The boy smiled, though, knowing he was horrible and enjoying every second of it anyway. When he was finally through with his song, he grinned ear-to-ear, waiting for the demoness's approval.

"That was beautiful," she praised, smiling and standing from her chair. She stood on her toes and placed a kiss on Nate's forehead, whispering in his ear as she came down, "This is the day of judgment, sweetheart." Her heart was heavy at the simple idea. Then, so everyone could hear, she said, "I want you to be nice to this new boy. And whatever anyone says, Baldo cooked, okay? Unless it's good, then I made it." She cracked a smile. "Mey-Rin," she addressed the girl who wore the same uniform as she did, "I will never understand how you wear this cursed bonnet; you are a stronger woman than I could _ever_ be. Be a dear and show me to be a maid by way of example, yes?" It felt to everyone as if she were saying her last goodbyes; it gave everyone a rather solemn expression. "Finn, Nate, did you two clean that garden?" The boys nodded and Yoshiko crossed her arms loosely, pleased. Her smile turned slightly evil. "Baldo. You got your comeuppance."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "That's enough," he said, ready to give the speech he gave whenever a guest was coming. No matter how many times he gave it, it always seemed to go in one ear and out the other. "We are servants of the Phantomhive family. Please act like it." Then he went on to describe, in detail, what that, exactly, meant.

:: ::

It was hard not to hear the Irish boy stomp his way to the office, though believe him, Ciel did try. The boy was far too large and ungraceful. His feet made an undignified sound as he raced through stairs. Ciel sighed, placing his fork down on his plate next to the delicious chocolate cake Yoshiko had convinced Sebastian into giving him seconds of. He suddenly and damningly missed Soma and all his eccentricities. At least with the prince, Ciel could have sent him off on some wild goose chase or told them that some vacation home in France needed Agni's protection.

Just as predicted, Nathaniel raced through the doors of his office in a white copy of Finn's uniform. It was odd, to see the Irishman in white when his usual wardrobe consisted of dark greens and forest greens. "C-Ciel!" the boy called, predictably out of breath, predictably ruining the comfortable silence in the Earl's office. The Earl had to keep himself from sighing. "Do you—you—you want to play cards one last time?"

Ciel rose a brow. "Last?"

Nathaniel shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah. Last," he affirmed. "I...after I see Sean... _Poof._"

Ciel nodded, causing a bright grin to spill across the redhead's face. He pulled a deck of cards out of a drawer in his desk and shuffled them expertly as Nate pulled up a chair on the other side of said desk. "Poker, blackjack, bridge, rummy, hearts, spades, or pick-up-fifty-two?"

"Pick-up-fifty-two? How do you play?" Nathaniel asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Simple." Ciel smirked wickedly, arching the cards outward from him and letting them fly from his hands and land on the floor. "Pick up fifty-two," he ordered.

Nathaniel giggled. "_Clever_!" he shouted, as he bent to pick up the cards. He passed the deck to Ciel and said, "Rummy."

They were playing in silence for a while. Nathaniel squirmed in his chair a bit, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Ciel didn't press him, either uninterested or knowing that he would come forward when the Irishman saw fit. He wasn't wrong. Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair, which was considerably less greasy now that Sebastian had given it a good scrubbing. "I just wanted to say—" he stopped, seeming to reconsider for a second, realizing that these were possibly the last words he would ever say to this boy, his friend—"that...I'm thankful. For everything. I appreciate it. I do. I know you're doing this—meeting the Fitzpatrick family—for me. I just wanted to say thank you."

Ciel nodded wordlessly; it occurred to him suddenly that he would miss this sad, redheaded excuse for a man. He let the thought rush away before giving it a second glance.

**:: ::**

It was raining outside. Pouring in the darkness of the night. The sound was far from the comforting pitter-patter that most people love. It was dark, it was ominous, as if the clouds themselves knew what was to come, and they were crying, they were sad. The lightening came before the thunder, and Yoshiko shuddered, thinking of how Nathaniel hated lightening. The carriage pulled up, announced by the bounce of its wheels on rock and the splatter of mud against its hull. She took a deep breath and sighed it out before reaching out to open one of the huge doors leading into the Phantomhive foyer before the family even knocked on the door.

Her breath hitched when she saw the sweet face of the nine-year-old holding onto his mother's skirt. He had shimmering green eyes, just like Nate, and bright red hair, _just like Nate_. His features were similar to Nate's but they were obviously his own, and his face was soft, sweet, _childlike_.

She was glad Sebastian was there to do all the speaking; had she been required to do so, she wouldn't have had the strength.

"Welcome," Sebastian greeted in his rich voice, "to the Phantomhive Manor." He took the large Irishman's coat and his wife's too, waited for their son to stop fumbling with his buttons.

Yoshiko leaned down to the boy's height and pushed the buttons through their respective eyelets. "See?" she said kindly, motherly. "Easy." Her nail tapped the last one with a dull _tick-tick_. "Now you try." Sean fumbled again, then managed to undo the last button with a triumphant grin. She took the boy's coat and smiled at his parents, taking their coats from Sebastian's hands and disappearing into the coat closet with them. She was back quickly enough, in time to silently join them in the dinning room. She didn't bother to take in the expected beauty of the room; her heart was thudding so fast in her chest she couldn't breathe. Dread and anticipation made for an unholy union. She disappeared into the kitchen.

Mr. Fitzpatrick bowed to the head of the house, who was standing at his place at the head of the table. Ciel nodded in response and pulled his chair out, ready to sit. The Irishman helped his brunette wife into her chair, pushing it in. Sean managed to sit in his chair without help, though he held onto his mother's hand as if unsure. Yoshiko grimaced. "It is very nice of you to have my family over for dinner," the investor said, making customary small talk. "My wife and I appreciate it."

Ciel nodded. "I like to get to know my investors before I accept," he said, smiling adorably. This was a practiced smile, one meant for manipulation. This smile brought one out in Sean, too, and the boy seemed all the younger for it. Yoshiko and Mey-Rin appeared, setting out the first meal silently, though Mey-Rin did falter as she served the tea.

Sebastian, from his place beside the young master, intoned the name of the first coarse.

A meal is a meal is a meal; they all pass by in relatively the same manor. This one was no exception in Sebastian's mind, though it was rather unnerving to watch as Yoshiko hovered over the cheerful little boy, a pale protector. He thought she had looked the same when Nathaniel was young; hovering just behind the boy, at arms reach should she be needed, a dark protector.

It wasn't until the last course of the meal that something interesting did happen. Yoshiko's human boy was peering in through the archway into the dinning room, flesh-colored eye-patch lifted, Yoshiko's red thirteen-pointed star shinning almost incandescently against the green of his eye. He was wide-eyed and his jaw was slack, disbelief coloring the shocked curl in his brow, almost as if he couldn't believe that _this_ refined young boy was his brother, his baby brother. He ran a hand through his red hair, making sure—making one-hundred percent _sure_—that this little man was his brother. It was unbelievable. Sean had been taken by some policemen after the crash. Nate himself had run away from the crash, running for help with his broken arm; he hadn't even gotten any help by the time he came back. It was then that he saw that Sean was gone. He hadn't had any idea where he might be or if he was alive until Yoshiko came along. She was the one that found out.

Nathaniel was still staring when he was caught. Caught by his own brother, who jumped up from the chair as if shocked. "_Máthair_, _athair_!" Sean shouted. His mother, a pretty blonde-haired woman, looked utterly appalled at the way her son shot up, without manners. Her voice was smooth, pretty, as she reprimanded him in Irish. Sean wasn't cowed. He sounded desperate as he insisted, "_Tá sé Nathaniel! Bheirimse tá sé!_" The desperation in his voice was heartbreaking, and Nate stared, transfixed by his brother's sweetly voice as he swore up and down that the boy peering out from the archway _was_ his brother, unable to move. Sean was trembling with anger.

Mr. Fitzpatrick's cheeks were a flushed bright red. He turned to his host with an embarrassed grin, "It seems my boy thinks the redhead there"—he nodded to Nate—"is his brother. I'm so sorry, please forgive this scene." Ciel spared the man a wry half-sided grin, amused. Mr. Fitzpatrick sharply told Sean to _please be quiet_ in Irish. The boy begged to see Nate, though, just once, and the investor rendered this information to his young host.

Ciel didn't say a ward, instead waving forward his redheaded guest.

Nate pulled the straw hat over his distinctive red hair and walked, ever-so-slowly, into the Fitzpatricks line of sight. "Hello," he said, doing his damnedest to keep his accent out of his words. Sean stared at him, wide-eyed, and jabbered to his father.

Mr. Fitzpatrick sighed. "Who are you, son?" he asked Nathaniel.

Nate swallowed. "I—my name is—" he stuttered, then stopped, thinking over his words. Once he found something seemingly acceptable, he started again. "I am the maid there"—he pointed a finger to the taller of the two maids, who was still floating behind Sean—"and the butler here's son." Sean asked him his name, but Nathaniel forced himself to ignore him, feigning illiteracy in the Irish language. The boy's lip quivered as he relayed the question to his father.

"Your name, boy?"

Nate pressed his lips together. "I...my name is Edgar," he lied.

Sean's face fell. His eyes burst into tears and he cried out, once, before his mother shushed him and pulled him away from the dinning room, not asking to be excused for lack of knowledge in the English language. Nate had to stop a sob from ripping out of his own chest.

**:: ::**

The family left not long after. Ciel sat at the head of his table, finishing his chocolate danish in relative peace. It landed heavily, tastelessly on his tongue. Soon he found he had propped his elbow up on the table and leaned his head into his hand, the cold metal of his signet ring burning on his cheek. He thought of Sean, that poor boy, wondering how it would feel to be him. To see a brother you had been told countless times was lost or dead, and to be denied that it was him. The thought made Ciel's blood run cold and he was suddenly very glad that Nathaniel wouldn't be around anymore, that way the lies Sean had been told would become nothing but the truth.

It was a cold truth.

**:: ::**

"I'm so sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Mum. I promised."

"Please, _please_, forgive me. _Please_."

The next sound was a blood-curdling scream.

**:: ::**

Pluto whined. Yoshiko ran a hand through his soft white fur, her tears wetting her cheeks. The devil dog lifted his paw carefully—unlike his usual self, as if he could feel the pure sadness radiating off the demon's very soul, if she had one—and licked, along with the girl resting on it, then set her down. Yoshiko sighed at the slobber. Her scarlet eyes stared lifelessly out into the sunrise, her heart unpleasantly light. As if a hole was there.

"I'm weak," she berated herself. "Learned from the best, from the strongest, and I'm _weak_."

Pluto whined in disagreement.

The demon sighed again. "What am I going to do now, Plu-Plu?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "I can't go back. I don't have the heart for it."

"Stay here."

It was the voice of Sebastian's young master and Yoshiko jumped as she turned around. The boy stood there, in fine shorts and knee-length socks, golden buckles on his heeled shoes. The buttons on his outer jacket shimmered mockingly. He was alone outside in the forest, aside herself and the dog. His sole blue eye was emotionless, his childlike face expressionless.

Yoshiko gazed at him and sighed yet again. It seemed she couldn't do much else. The sun made her pale skin glow with an orange sheen. "What was that?" she asked, more out of shock than anything else.

Ciel rolled his eyes; he wasn't fond of repeating himself. "Stay. Here," he said slowly. "You'll need to change your hair, however. It's horribly distracting for one of the Phantomhive servants. Perhaps your name too. Foreigners aren't taken too kindly." There was a soft grin on his face as he said, "Unless, of course, you bring opium."

Yoshiko swallowed thickly. "Are you sure?"

"I do not go back on my word."

There was a long moment of silence. "Thank you."

* * *

**Want more of Yoshiko/whatever-name-I'lll-change-it-to-later? Do tell. I plan on posting a Sebby/Yoshiko lemon later.**


End file.
